Red On Her Ledger
by clintashas
Summary: Natasha leaves SHIELD for five months, leaving Clint extremely angry and confused. But now she's back with interesting news about her whereabouts.
1. Chapter 1: The Meet

She was back. Natasha was back. Clint could sense it hours before he got the first text message, but he kept the feeling to himself. She'd left five months ago, without a word to anyone. She'd somehow stayed off the news, miraculously, and kept hidden in the shadows.

For the first few months, Clint was confused. He looked for her, hoping that maybe she was just captured or something. He hoped she hadn't left of her own free will. But he knew, in his heart that she had.

He was in his apartment, looking through some old files when he got the first message.

_I'm back. Can we talk? _it read.

He snorted and threw the phone down on the couch.

The second text came a few seconds later. Natasha was never a very patient woman. He knew that out of experience.

_Barton, I know you're ignoring me. I needed to leave._

This time, he didn't throw the phone back, but pocketed it, turning back to the work he was doing, dragging his hand through his hair. He wanted to talk to her, he did. But she'd left, without a sign. He'd asked Hill, he'd asked Coulson, but they'd both kept their traps shut. They said that she'd held them at gunpoint. Blackmail always worked well with Natasha.

He turned his back on his work and walked to the kitchen, yawning tiredly.

The third text did not come until he'd heard a persistent knock on the door.

_Open up, _it read. He furrowed his eyebrows and made his way to the door, pulling it open wearily.

"What do you want, Natasha?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe, not quite letting her into the old apartment. He hadn't left it after she'd disappeared. It held too many memories of them. There was a time where he'd got shot in the grocery shop downstairs, and she'd literally lifted his ass out of there and pulled him into the apartment. They'd never celebrated birthdays, but on his, she'd go to his apartment for a game of poker. They'd play quietly and she'd sleep at his for the night. It was a tradition. On her birthday, he would sleep at hers. It was just how they worked.

She glared at him for a couple of minutes. "I want to talk." she said after a moment's silence. "Just talk." she repeated, after looking at the look of skepticism on his face.

They'd made a promise five years ago. She'd promised that she'd never ditch him and leave for the Red Room. She'd been bleeding out in his arms, but it was a promise all the same. And he had made sure to promise the same. Until she'd gone and broken it. She'd left, leaving him in the dark for five months.

"Fine then, talk." he said curtly, folding his arms across his chest. She rolled her eyes and glanced around.

She looked good. She looked different and her hair was about an inch shorter. But she looked nice.

"Can I come in?" she asked, with gritted teeth, as if she was annoyed with him. "_Please?"_

He sighed, pulling the door open for her. He couldn't say no to Natasha. It was a strength and a weakness. They'd known each other for seven years. And since the very first day of their messed up partnership, he'd been unable to say no, or even disagree with her.

She was wearing jeans and a black top when she entered his apartment. It made it seem like she'd been on vacation- she looked well rested…but tired, all the same. She looked clean, but at the same time, her eyes were red with lack of sleep. He took her in carefully as he sat on the couch.

"Now talk." he said irritably.

Natasha sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. "If you really want to know, I needed a break." she said with a simple shrug.

"Don't give me that shit." he countered. "You needed a break, you could've told me and left. Not a big deal. I wouldn't have followed you." But he knew he probably would have, just to make sure she was safe. The Red Room was constantly after Natasha, in the hopes she would go back. But she was always on the run. When they were in Helsinki, Barnes finally tracked them down. But they'd run. And Barnes hadn't found them ever since.

Natasha leaned forward on her elbows. "I needed a break alone. I needed to make sure there was nobody on my ass this time. I needed to make sure _you _weren't around." she said, her eyes searching his face, for any sign that he'd missed her. Of course he had.

Clint leaned back against the cushions of the couch. "Without me." he repeated, dumbfounded. They'd never said that to each other.

Natasha shook her head quietly. "Without you. Don't take it the wrong way, Clint. Every time I'm around you, you're always getting into trouble. Always." she said, her eyebrows furrowing. "And this whole Red Room issue….I needed to eliminate it without you."

Clint immediately sat up. "Wait, you went after Barnes? Without me? What the fuck is wrong with you?" he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "And here I thought we were partners." he muttered, standing up and walking to the kitchen.

Natasha stood up quietly, following him.

"That's not the point, Clint. I don't want you to die trying to save me, I don't-"

"That's not your decision to make!"

"Barnes is dangerous- you don't understand." she said with a calm and collected tone.

"We're dangerous people too!" he was livid, he was talking fast, and angrily.

Natasha didn't say anything, just stood by the door, watching him as he made himself a cup of coffee. He turned around finally, walking towards her and thrusting the coffee into her hands.

"Our partnership- it means we work together. Like always, Tasha. I can't have you leaving and fighting your own battles alone. I can't have Coulson come and tell me that you were dead without me knowing where you were. I can save you if you let me." he said, moving back slightly to give her room.

Natasha sighed, and looked away. She hated it when he was right. He was so moral, and so painfully correct each time.

"Fine. We'll talk about this later. It's bound to explode out of you again." he muttered irritably. "What did Barnes say?"

Natasha shook her head and turned to look at him. "I didn't find him. I found his little spy though." she muttered. "I mean, Alexei's dead now, but I got some information out of him. He says Barnes is here, in New York. And he's on the look." She took the coffee into her hands and sipped it. She'd missed his coffee- he always knew how to make it right for her.

Clint furrowed his eyebrows. "Fine, we need to get you out of here then. He'll find you soon enough-"

He was cut off by Natasha shaking her head.

"No, Clint. He's not looking for me. He's looking for you."


	2. Chapter 2: A Confrontation

Clint stared at her in silence for a good two minutes until she started to get really uncomfortable with it. She moved her eyes from his down to his chest.

"What?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. Natasha raised her head defiantly and said, "You heard me."

Clint staggered back a couple of steps until his back hit the wall. "Why me? What the hell does he want with me?" he muttered, more to himself than to her. Anyhow, Natasha shrugged and turned around. "That means we need to get _you _out of here." she said with a smirk. He laughed humorlessly.

He shook his head. "Of all the times you crack jokes, _now _is the best? And no. Absolutely not. I want to know what he wants with me. And that means I can talk to him. " Natasha laughed. "Don't be stupid, Barton. He'll just kill you. Let it go." she said moving forward to grab his hand and pull him towards the door. But Clint roughly pulled it out, shaking his head. "I have a plan. Just listen, okay?" he said, moving to sit on the couch. "You go back to your 'ex-apartment'." he said, making sure he kept his voice soft and controlled. Natasha kept her lips pursed, but her eyes told him that she was probably going to say no.

"Let me talk to Barnes. I'll figure something out- what he's trying, and why he's after you so badly. Then you can track me, and we can get a hold of him. We can get a lead, Tasha." he said, keeping his eyes trained on her. "You stay low for a couple of hours. If something goes wrong, you'll know. I'll call."

Natasha narrowed her eyes. No doubt, the idea of _finally _catching Barnes and throwing him into jail, or even better, killing him, appealed to her. But not with Clint. She couldn't risk losing her best friend, and her partner. He was her second half. And she couldn't bear to even see him get punched. She stayed silent for a few seconds while Clint just looked at her expectantly.

"No." she said, quietly. "No. I won't allow it, Clint. You can't just find Barnes. He's dangerous, and won't hesitate shooting you _multiple _times to find me."

Clint sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Then what do you suggest we do, Tasha? Do you have a better plan, because I sure as hell don't. Barnes is probably going to find one of us,_ very _soon." he said, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees.

Natasha groaned, putting her head in her hands. "I hate feeling so helpless. How the fuck do we get this idiot?" she mumbled.

Clint stopped, suddenly. He looked around the room, something was different. The cupboard that had been closed just a minute ago, the cupboard he had taken his coffee mug out of was open. The room that had been shut for five months, _Natasha's room, _was wide open. It had been fucking locked. The picture of the two of them that had been hanging on the kitchen wall had been taken down. Natasha didn't notice, but he sensed something off in his apartment. He could almost feel another presence.

"Tasha-" Clint mumbled, looking around frantically, but Natasha was talking.

"Maybe we can try to shoot him, and get him into base. Fury'll be livid, so scratch that. We can do it alone. We'll bring him back here then. Then we can-"

"Natasha." he said quietly, turning to looking at her.

"-interrogate him, and probably kill him right? Definitely kill him." she said, and then stopped as she looked at his expression.

"Too late. He's already here." Clint said, standing up and walking to the door. "Sorry, Natasha. But you need to get the hell out of my house. And _run. _I'll deal with it from here." he said.

Natasha snorted and stood up. "No way in hell, Barton. We either find Barnes together, or not at all." she said, pulling her gun out of its holster on her waist.

Clint kept the door open, looking at her calmly. "You know how hard it is to capture the guy. He hides well. If he's looking for me, you know he won't come out till I'm alone. _Without you. _Let me just talk to him for five minutes." he whispered. He felt himself repeating the words she'd told him minutes back. _Without you. _It felt almost foreign on his tongue. _Five minutes was all he needed to get Barnes off Natasha's back. _

Natasha glared at him, and walked to the door, resigning. "I want you back, Clint. I _need you _back. He's a liar. Don't trust him. Be careful, I don't want you back in more than two pieces" she said with a small smile, taking his hand in hers. Clint grinned childishly. "I'll be fine. And yeah, same old, same old. I won't trust the bastard." he said with a small smile and pulled her into a bone crushing hug.

"I missed you, Tasha." he said quietly. She could barely hear it, and almost thought she'd imagined it, but when he moved back, he smiled. "A lot." Then he let go of her waist, and ushered her out of the door. "Go. _Run."_ he mumbled, closing the door behind him, and turning around.

He'd met Bucky before, but only briefly. They'd gone to Chile, and Barnes had shown up, talking to her in fluent Russian. As usual, Clint could only pick up bits and pieces.

"Вернись, Наталья" _Come back, Natalia, _he had said, but she had simply snorted, and dodged his bullet to her leg. She ran after that, not stopping for miles. Clint had gone after her, but she refused to talk about it.

That night, he'd had to hold her down in bed while she cried and thrashed out. She'd had nightmares, but never so bad. But it was Natasha. And the next day, she hadn't said a word about it.

A few weeks later, he found her in the gym, beating the crap out of a punching bag. She looked like she was going to pass out. He had swiftly cut in, blocked a few of her punches until she'd collapsed. Before she slept that night, she'd told him who Barnes was. She'd said, "Don't trust him, Clint." she mumbled, laying down beside him. When he tried to ask her, he'd realized that she was already asleep.

The next day, she sat him down beside her, and told him. She told him everything. About the Red Room, about how Barnes had brainwashed her. How he'd never tried to kill her, but had wiped all her memories clean. And how he wanted her back. Because she was the best investigation they'd had. The best _experiment. _She had scoffed at that, and walked out. Clint had tried to go after her, but she was fast.

She came back the next day, and when he tried to confront her about it, all she had said was, "Not now, Clint."

So he dropped it. And didn't bring it up. And then she'd gone and fucking run away from him. For five months. He felt like an idiot for not talking to her about it earlier, but he knew that she wouldn't have talked anyway.

Clint waited for a couple of minutes behind the door, just leaning against it. Waiting. He focused on his own heartbeat, pumping against his chest, threatening to burst out. He needed to make sure Natasha left. He felt a sudden rush of wind as he saw a shadow emerge from the bedroom that Natasha owned.

"Clint Barton." a deep voice said as Bucky Barnes emerged from the room, a smirk plastered on his face.


	3. Chapter 3: The Deal

**A/N: Hey guys, thanks for the lovely reviews! :) This series is my first fanfiction ever, so reviews are welcome :) Let me know what you think, and tell me what you think might happen next! **

Clint didn't really know what to say. To be fair, he hadn't particularly talked to Barnes before, and he had absolutely no clue why Barnes wanted to talk to him in the first place. So he just decided to respond with cold indifference. "James Barnes." he said, walking over to Natasha's room, and closing it.

Barnes was a tall, thin man. To be fair, he was rather handsome looking, and Clint wouldn't be surprised if he was to hear that Natasha had been romantically involved with him at one point of time. He had an American Accent, but with the amount of time he'd spent in Moscow, there was a slight tinge of Russian tied in there.

James Barnes looked in Clint's direction curiously. "Whose room is that? Is that Natalia's room?" he asked, turning to face the archer, who was now leaning against the wall.

"Cut the crap. Why are you here?" Clint asked coldly, glancing at his watch quickly. Five minutes was all he had before Natasha would call. He was sure she _would _call. Barnes was curiously looking at a frame in his hands. He slowly made his way to the living room, and Clint followed him. He turned around, holding the picture up. "Where was this?" he asked, holding up the picture that had been hung up in the kitchen wall.

It had been in Sydney. Natasha had been working an office undercover job, and Clint had been there to make sure she remained safe. Basically, they both worked, surveying the area. They'd gone sightseeing, and the photo had been taken by a lovely couple who thought they looked 'cute'. Natasha had scoffed, but Clint and gently prodded her waist, telling her to keep quiet and not to attract attention. That had been five years ago.

"Sydney." he said, quietly. "Why are you here?" he repeated, enunciating each of his words with more emphasis. Barnes sighed, nodding, and pocketing the frame. Clint did not comment. He simply eyed the photo as it disappeared. "I have a proposition for you, Barton." Barnes said, folding his arms across his chest, and stalking to the other side of the room, looking at the books on the shelves. When Clint did not say anything, Barnes continued. "As you know, Natalia's been looking for me for the past few months. Five, to be exact." he muttered, looking around. "And I know she wants to kill me. She won't join the Red Room- she won't come back." he said, his eyes raking Clint's body. "And the reason for that is..you."

Clint raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. _Sure, Natasha and I care, but she has enough sense not to join those bastards. _Clint opened his mouth as if to say something, but Barnes just continued. "You see, Clint, I've known Natalia for years. Eighteen, to be precise. And I know when she cares about someone. _Loves someone." _That got Clint's attention. He folded his arms across his chest.

"Natasha and I care about each other. We're partners, and that means we stick around." he said defiantly. "I don't expect _you _to understand." he muttered irritably. Barnes raised an eyebrow. "Wait for my proposition, Mr. Barton." he said quietly. "I'm offered to give you _anything._ Whatever the hell you want. Money? So be it. A new house?" Barnes looked around the old apartment in distaste, but Clint wanted to keep it. Sometimes, the older objects were the more important.

He shook his head, and smirked at Barnes. "I don't want any of that." he said, simply. His phone suddenly buzzed. He furrowed his eyebrows and picked it up.

"Barton." he said gruffly, his eyes never leaving Barnes. "Oh, Tasha. It's you." he mumbled.

Natasha was on the other line, sounding livid. She sounded like some bastard had just shot her in the foot. She sounded...worried.  
"Where the hell are you? Is he gone?" she asked, pacing her room frantically.

Clint shook his head subconsciously, and then realized she wasn't around. "No. Still here. Look, I'll call you back, okay?" he muttered, and put the phone down, just as he heard Natasha say, "No, Clint, don't you fucking dare-"

He threw the phone down on the couch, and let his hands fall to his sides. Barnes shrugged.

"Let me ask you something, Barton. Do you love her?" he asked, his lips pursed. His eyes never left Clint's as he waited for a response patiently.

"What?"

"_Do. You. Love. Her?"_

Barton clenched his fists into tight balls for a couple of seconds, choosing how to react. "What does it matter to you? If I love her or not?" Barnes looked at Clint sympathetically. "You don't know the past she's lived, Clint. It's horrific. She's not the person you think she is."

"Let me decide that." Clint growled, moving over to his cupboard to grab his jacket, walking to the door. "Let yourself out, if you don't mind." he muttered.

Barnes strode to the door, shutting it quickly, just as Clint pulled it open. "Let me make this simpler for you. I have a bomb planted somewhere in New York." he said, his voice barely audible. He pulled out a small controller from his pocket. "And it can go off whenever I want it to."

Clint stood up straight. "Give me that." he said, quickly, making a grab for it, but Barnes was too quick.

He simply shook his head, standing by the bookshelf now. He was fast. "It takes two to make something work, Clint. I want something in return."

Barton stood there, standing over Barnes, who looked too calm to be living. "What?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Barnes stood up, pocketing the controller again. "You're going to leave. Get out of New York, go to _Russia, _I don't fucking care. She can't find you. She won't find you. But I want Natasha to see that you're gone. And you don't care. And you don't _love her." _


	4. Chapter 4: Plans

**A/N Thanks for all the favorites and reviews guys! More reviews are always welcome, I'd love some feedback. Let me know what you think of the story so far :)**

Clint didn't know what to say. He was in an impossible situation. After glaring at Barnes for a few minutes, he said, "Fuck you."

Barnes just laughed, throwing his head back, and mercilessly letting out a howl. Clint gritted his teeth, and thought of a way out of this one. "Fine. What if I do it? What if I leave? Will you leave Natasha alone?" The smile faded slightly from Barnes' face. Just a bit. He was still grinning when he looked at Barton. "Oh, you _still _don't get it. I'll never leave her alone. The Red Room will never leave her alone."

"Then I'm not leaving her either." Clint retorted.

"You're making a bad choice, Barton. You love her too much-"

"Shut up."

"and you can't stop." he muttered, pulling out the photo frame with the two of them on it. He dropped it, causing it to shatter into a million pieces. "She was never yours to keep-"

"_Shut up. Please." _

"the Red Room will always be after her. And they'll always want her back. And if you leave now, Barton, she can come back to us feeling no regret. Because you left her first."

Clint fell silent. He averted his glare, looking down at the ground now, contemplating. He really had no idea what to do. He had to make a decision. He would have lunged at Barnes, but the latter man had a bigger build to him, and Clint didn't doubt that he could fight well. Bucky had been one to teach Natasha. And Clint could only very rarely spar with Natasha and win. He couldn't leave her. That wasn't an option. She came back because she needed him, and they needed each other. And he was planning to stay by her side throughout it all. And the bomb. He couldn't allow that to just go off, and just save Natasha. That wasn't an option either. Then what was?

As Barnes stared at him, and he stared at Barnes, there was a knock on the door. Clint's tense shoulders sagged down, and his eyes closed. He let out a deep sigh. Not in relief, but fear. He knew who that was. _Natasha. _She'd driven back, just to make sure Clint was okay. Barnes seemed to know it too. "Make a decision Barton. Next time we meet, I'll either see you with her, or without her." he said, walking to the balcony, and walking down the fire escape.

Clint sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, and moved to pull the door open. He had barely unlocked the door when a streak of red came storming in, turning on him. "What the _hell _is wrong with you?" she yelled, raising her hand to slap him, and then punch him, but he blocked them with ease. She didn't give up that easily. She fought and struggled against him as he twisted her hands behind her back, his fingers gently wrapping around her wrists.

"Relax, Tasha. I'm fine." he muttered, walking her to the couch. He pushed her down against the cushions gently, letting her hands go. "See?" he said, gesturing towards his body. "I'm fine."

Natasha narrowed her eyes, furrowing her eyebrows. "Well? Spit it out, what did he want?" she asked, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. Clint ran a hand through his hair, trying to find a way to phrase the answer.

He dropped his voice, just incase Barnes was listening. "He's offered me an ultimatum. He wants me to leave you. Get out of New York, America if I can. His words, not mine." he said, quietly. "He has a bomb- somewhere in New York. He's threatening me with it." he said.

Natasha was quiet for a few seconds. "Why you? Why does he threaten _you_?"

Clint simply shrugged. "We're partners. We stick together, remember?" he said, quietly. "I have no idea what to do, Tasha. I can't leave you, but I can't let thousands die."

Natasha chuckled. Clint raised an eyebrow. "You're laughing?! Of all times, Tasha. I try to make you laugh, and it fucking _never _works. But when your partner gets threatened, that's when you choose to laugh?" he hissed, incredulously. "You're an idiot." he mumbled.

She shook her head. "No- I thought of a plan. And I think it's quite a good one."

Clint sat down opposite her. "Well? What is it?" he asked, quickly.

Natasha walked to her bookshelf, pulling out a large book. Opening the first page, she pointed to a map of the world. "All you have to do, is get out of the country alone. I'll follow close behind. Barnes doesn't need to know that I know you left, or vice versa." she said, pointing to their current location. "I have a safe house in New Zealand." she said with a smirk. "How about we go for a little holiday, Barton?"

Clint let himself smile at her attempt, but shook his head. "The Red Room will find you, Tasha. They'll never stop looking."

"So I'll fake my death. And you can use your dramatic acting skills to pretend to _actually_ be sad at my funeral." she muttered. "In the meantime, we can send an anonymous tip to Fury, warning him about a bomb." she said with a shrug. "SHIELD can detonate that, while we go skydiving. I'm in the mood. Plus, it'll be snowing. I know how much you like the cold, Clint." she said smirking.

Clint's eyes widened considerably. "Why don't we consider Singapore? It's warm year round. Please, Tasha?"

She shook her head from side to side. "Get packing, Barton." she said with a laugh as she grabbed her keys and walked out. "Text me when you land in New Zealand." she called out, just before she shut the door.

Clint groaned, and prodded to his room, plonking himself on the bed. He glanced around his messy excuse for a bedroom, and fell back against the cushions. He'd have to pack warm clothes. He hated cold weather. He spoke in _extremely _colorful language as he spent the rest of his hours packing up, and calling for jets out of New York.


	5. Chapter 5: A New Member To The Family

A few days later, Clint was sitting on the front porch of Natasha's house, sipping a cup of coffee. He hated the cold. He despised it. However, even he knew he couldn't bear to be cooped inside the house for the whole day. He was wearing three jackets and two sweaters, and there were four blankets loosely wrapped around him. He shivered once as he glared at his cup of coffee that had already gotten cold.

He checked his phone with shaking hands and glanced at the text message Natasha had sent him. _Landed in NZ. _He pocketed the phone again, looking over the horizon as the sun was rising. The sky was a deep red as the sun came up, like the color of Natasha's hair. Recently, all Clint found himself thinking of was her. How she had left, and she'd come back. How he hoped to God she wouldn't leave again.

The front gate swung open as Natasha dragged two suitcases behind her, grinning at Clint. "Well, help me, would you?" she called out, but he simply shook his head. "It's too early, and I'm too cold. Find someone else." he muttered, wrapping the blankets around him tightly. Natasha simply rolled her eyes and pulled the two suitcases up the front steps with ease and stepped inside the house.

She came back outside a few minutes later, changed. She wore a sweater and jeans and sat down beside him with her own cup of coffee. "So, Barton, while we're here, what do you think we should do?" she asked, leaning against an old pillar.

Clint shrugged, trembling with cold. "I think I'm dying." he mumbled and Natasha scoffed. "Thank God. I was wondering when you'd go." Clint's mouth fell as he glared at her. "Come on, Tasha. Be nice. I just want a hug." he said, opening his arms up to her encouragingly, but then closing them tight around his body quickly. Natasha laughed. "Why the hell are you sitting out here then? Let's go inside. There's heating." But Clint simply shook his head. "I can't stay inside forever. It's too...closed up." he muttered. "Can I go outside to get some groceries?" he asked, standing up and shedding a couple of blankets.

Natasha nodded and walked inside. "I'll make lunch. Be back fast, though." she called out when he reached the gate. "Oh, and Clint- don't forget, you need to buy some Russian Vodka." Clint let out half a grin and started trudging to the grocery store down the street. The walk offered him a certain element of heat, and he felt some of the color back in his cheeks as he walked.

The grocery shop was pretty much empty, so he walked around the isles, picking up mostly what Natasha liked best. And Russian Vodka. A lot of it. A few minutes later, he got a message from Natasha. It took him five minutes to extract the phone from his pocket with his shaking hands, but when he did, he nodded in understanding.  
Chocolate.  
He sped down three isles and picked up about fifteen boxes of chocolates to stash in the house. The house was quite big, with a huge lawn in the back. There was a gate that led to the forest, and there was a small pen for chickens. But Natasha had said that there had never been chickens in the house, but the previous tenants had wanted them.

After paying for all the groceries, and receiving looks of disgust from the cashier at the sheer amount of alcohol he'd bought, Clint made his way outside, taking a detour through one of the alleyways as a shortcut. As he rubbed his hands and carried the bags down the alleyway, he spotted a flurry of gold shoot past him and hide behind a trashcan. Clint stopped in his tracks. He slowly put the bags down on the snow, and pulled out a gun from his jacket pocket. He slowly edged to the edge of the trashcan, and turned the safety off.

And then, he aimed. But stopped. He heard a whimper. As he pulled the trashcan aside, what he saw, made his heart melt, and warmth flooded through him almost instantly. It was a puppy. A golden retriever by the looks of it. The dog was dirty, and was covered in soot. He shivered with the cold, and trembled. He was thin, and was lying down, his nose burrowed in the snow. He almost looked like he'd given up on life.

Clint bent down and stretched his hand on the dog's head. His tail wagged once, but then simply flopped back on the snow, twitching. Clint sighed, and moved forward, picking the puppy up into his arms. The dog made no attempt to jump out of Clint's grasp. In fact, he seemed more comfortable, and simply buried its head into Clint's jacket. Clint smiled and pulled out one of his blankets, wrapping it around the puppy. Atleast they came to use.

Keeping the dog balanced in his right arm, Clint picked up the bags with his left and trudged back home. Oh, Natasha wasn't just going to kill him. She would probably skin him alive. It wasn't that she hated dogs- she liked them. But she didn't like owning one. The dog seemed to be regaining some of his energy in Clint's arm, his tail twitching, and his head lifting up to sniff Clint's jacket for any signs of food. Clint finally stopped at a signal to cross the road and placed the grocery bags down, deciding to text Natasha.

_I'm adopting a dog. CB_

_You're what? NR_

_A dog. A golden retriever puppy. CB_

_Barton- what the hell? We don't have place for a dog! NR_

_We have a back lawn that's as big as my old apartment, Tasha. CB_

_We can keep it for a few days. But then we'll put up brochures to make sure he wasn't lost. NR_

Clint grinned. Atleast that was progress. Knowing her, she would probably grow to love the animal. Clint subconsciously ruffled the dogs ears as he picked up his bags and made his way back to the old house, swinging the gate open and dropping the bags down on the front porch.

"Tasha? I'm home." he called out. Natasha came walking out of the kitchen, looking disheveled. She had pasta sauce all over her face, and she looked furious.

"Next time, I'm doing the grocery shopping." she muttered irritably as the dog perked up. "Soon enough, this is gonna become an adoption agency."

Clint let out a laugh. "W..what happened to your face?"

"You try cooking pasta."

"I always cook dinner, Tasha."

"I'm gonna go clean up. Can you make sure it tastes good?"

Clint groaned. "Can we just order pizza, Tasha?" Natasha glared at him.

"Are you saying I can't cook, Barton?"

"N...no. I never said that. I'm just saying you can't cook _well."_ he said with a smirk as he stepped inside the house.

Natasha blinked. Clint paid no attention to her.

"Fine. Pizza. Just this once." she said quickly as she walked off upstairs to have a shower, and as Clint let out a laugh.


End file.
